


The Thought That Counts

by imaginary_iby



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, a snippet of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_iby/pseuds/imaginary_iby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Arthur wishes that he could give Gwen a simple wedding, a relaxed gathering of friends and family with no pressure and no royal expectation.  It is not to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> This was written many many years ago, but I've polished it up to move it to A03. It doesn't fit within any particular time-frame, so please just take it as a random ficlet. Thank you for taking the time to read!

"This dress is lovely on you, Gwen," Arthur murmured, catching between his fingers a wisp of the silken material that draped delicately from her shoulder.

Pausing in her flurry about the room, held captive as she was by Arthur's hand on her sleeve, Gwen watched as he gazed at her skirts sashaying to and fro. "You're an expert on ladies fashion now, are you Arthur?" she teased around a grin.

Letting the material flutter back to its place, Arthur squared his shoulders, held his head high, and said haughtily, "I am indeed. I like the way... well, that is to say... I like the way the material... is all swishy."

Gwen raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Swishy, you say?"

"Yes!" Arthur huffed, pointing to the way the blue material was still dancing around her ankles, the sparkly beading around the hem just catching the morning light. "It swishes. Thus, it is swishy."

With a laugh, Gwen made her way over to the dresser, casting her gaze over an assortment of dazzling necklaces that her handmaiden had laid out for her in the wee hours. She bit her bottom lip indecisively, always uncomfortable when faced with tiny objects worth more than her old house.

From across the room, Arthur also cast his gaze over the necklaces. It took him but a second to spy the perfect one; a simple golden chain with a small crystal pendent. Walking to her side, he picked it up, and motioned for her to turn around. His fingers were more familiar with a sword than a temperamental jewellery clasp, but it didn't take him long to have the necklace settled against her skin, the crystal pendant resting just above the curve of her breasts.

They looked into the mirror together, Arthur's chin resting on her shoulder. "It's all a bit much, don't you think?" Gwen asked nervously, smoothing her hands over her dress.

"Of course it's too much." Arthur chuckled.

-

Arthur hadn't failed to notice that Gwen's worry over her attire persisted throughout the day; she was normally a woman who dressed quickly and got on with things, but he'd almost had to drag her from their chambers, insisting that if she kept changing her mind they'd be late for the ceremony and Merlin would turn her into a frog.

The journey to Ealdor had been fairly uneventful, but every time Arthur glanced over at her, sat astride her horse, she was staring down at her dress with a frown. At one point, one of the knights accompanying them had shouted in alarm, "milady, watch that tree!"

Arthur would never admit it to Gwen, but her furious blush as she re-took the reigns was one of the greatest things he'd ever seen.

Reuniting with Merlin and the people of the village had temporarily distracted them both; Gwen from her dress, and Arthur from watching Gwen. Their old friend had left Camelot for Ealdor two weeks prior, to welcome his bride's family and help with arrangements – though Arthur was puzzled as to what possible use Merlin could be when it came to planning a wedding.

The day passed in a flurry, until the ceremony was due to begin. It was a simple affair – a few dozen chairs of varying shapes and sizes, (Arthur suspected that they'd come straight from people's kitchens), placed in the village common, before an arch which Merlin and Lilah were to stand under. Children had littered colourful ribbons over everything that stood still long enough - including Arthur's horse, who seemed rather bemused by the whole thing.

As the slightly tipsy violinist began to play a tune, Arthur came to stand beside Merlin before the seated guests. "You sure about this?" he asked, not at all seriously.

The expression Merlin directed at him was one which Arthur was very familiar with. Loosely translated, it meant, "you're a prat, why do I put up with you?"

Arthur just beamed innocently.

Merlin nodded at Gwen. "I'm as sure as you are," he said with absolute confidence.

Following Merlin's gaze, Arthur looked at his future wife, sat in the front row and looking beautiful in blue. She was absently adjusting her skirts, basking in the atmosphere that only a small village wedding could create.

There was no denying that she stood out; where the others wore lovely but simple clothes, clothed that were lived in and made to last, _she_ wore beautiful beaded silk. There was also no denying that, judging from her fidgeting hands, Gwen was very aware of the fact that she stood out.

Arthur had always understood the nature of her uneasiness around her newfound wealth and status, and he knew that she too had once lived the kind of simple life that now surrounded him. However, he'd never been so confronted by this fact. It hadn't occurred to him that she might actually _miss_ things like relaxed village weddings and ordinary clothes and simple village chatter.

As the ceremony began, Arthur couldn't ignore the slight worry that settled into the bottom of his stomach.

-

Arthur didn't think he'd ever seen so much ale. The castle larder was certainly well stocked, but it had nothing on the tiny tavern of Ealdor. The entire village was dining and drinking out under the stars, some people curled up on blankets, others crowded around tables. Everywhere he looked, people were dancing or playing card games and drinking games - or more often than not, a combination of the two.

He had to weave in and out of the crowd, juggling a plate of chicken and two goblets of wine. After much searching, he found Gwen. He was surprised, (and secretly delighted), to see that she was taking a larger than lady-like sip of red. He reached their table – averting his gaze when he saw that Merlin and Lilah were getting a little amorous – just in time to hear a small, dainty hiccup come from his future wife. She looked up at him and grinned, embarrassed. "I was thirsty."

Laughing a deep laugh, Arthur deposited the plates and goblets on the table, making sure to scoot the wine away from her reach. "Perhaps you should give it a second, love?" he said, as he sat down beside her.

She nodded in agreement and then, much to his surprise, cuddled up tight to him, resting her head on his shoulder and hugging his arm to her chest. She was an affectionate creature in private, there was no denying it, but he was used to her being much more reserved when around other people. He wasn't sure if it was the company or the wine, but he certainly enjoyed the way the warmth from her cheeks permeated his shirt.

They were quiet for a while, enjoying the chicken and the way the crowd would cheer loudly whenever Lilah and Merlin kissed – which was almost constantly.

It wasn't until Gwen sighed, and Arthur tilted his head to look down at her, that he remembered his earlier worry. Before he knew what he was doing, he blurted out, "I'm sorry."

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry."

Her brow furrowed quizzically. "Whatever for?"

"I'm sorry that I can't give you this." He nodded at all people dancing happily, (and drunkenly), around him. "When we get married-" even saying the word made his body vibrate happily, though he'd never admit it, "-it's not going to be like this. It's not going to be under the stars. It's not going to be small and relaxed. We won't be sitting on kitchen chairs. Most importantly of all, nobody will call me _Arty."_ He laughed, recalling the slightly drunk barkeep from earlier. "When we get married, it will be as King and Queen of Camelot. We'll be in the castle grand hall, and it won't be the local farmers who'll come to celebrate, it'll be royalty from distant lands. So I'm sorry." Cutting himself off, Arthur sat still as a stone, fearing he'd said too much.

Gwen was quiet for a moment, as if mulling over his words. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered these things." She fidgeted with her gown. "Obviously, you noticed that I was a trifle distracted today."

Trying not to feel glum, Arthur nodded, and was surprised when Gwen laughed.

"This bodes well, you might very well turn out to be an observant husband." She seemed to like saying the word husband, and smiled at him. "I'm worried about a lot of things, Arthur. Life is changing, and changing fast. I'm not sure if I'm ready to be royalty," she bumped her shoulder against his, "but I _am_ sure that I'm ready to be your wife."


End file.
